


Acceptance

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Noctis didn't know why he had actually applied to university, or what he was expecting when he saw the pile of letters on the table from each and every one.





	Acceptance

There was only ever one real way to deal with a rough day. To handle the anticipation that had been wrapped up in the mail now settled on the table like it was a delicate piece of art, or a bomb about to go off. To break the tension in the small apartment, after a day of dealing with the Council and royal court, daily duties, and the ever looming threats of the future that seemed to be rushing towards everyone in Noctis’ direct service. 

There was only ever one way to steel them both against the small pile of mail thrown haphazardly on the table. 

“Shall I put on a pot of tea?”

Ignis didn’t wait for an answer. He was already getting up, allowing the small comfort of a hand to trail across Noctis’ shoulders. 

“Yeah, thanks.” Noctis wanted to keep ignoring the mail. He wanted to dismiss it all, and pretend that none of it had arrived. “Why did I even do this, Specs? It’s not like I’ll actually get to go.”

“You were supporting Prompto,” Ignis let the familiar routine comfort him. Kettle, water, mugs, tea. A scoop of looseleaf into the infuser for him, a teabag for Noctis. “It was a very sweet thing to do.”

“But what if I’m accepted now? Do I declined? How do I decline? Do I have to tell them officially?”

Ignis knew the real cause for concern in the questions, and he busied his hands with getting the perfect scoop of tea leaves, of wiping up the few specs that had fallen. “Would you talk to your father if you wanted to go?”

“You say that like it’s a choice.”

“Of course it’s a choice, Noct,” the experiment had been done, the results were waiting in the small pile on the table. The prince and his friend had taken a year off after high school, had sent in applications and essays to the universities and colleges of the vast Lucian Crown City while they waited for Prompto’s medical results and acceptance into the Crownsguard. While they toyed with the idea of something other than just a throne ahead for Noctis. “His Majesty would encourage higher education if you wanted to attend.”

“The Council wouldn’t.”

“The Council can hang.”

The little laugh, the look of surprise, was worth it. “Since when are you so rebellious, Specs?”

“Just open one of the letters. Before I start inciting an open resistance to Council formalities.”

The University of Lucis was first— a political sciences programme, that had been the most realistic choice. The safest choice, despite Noctis’ firsthand experiences and dealings with actual politics. There was a letter from the department head, from the Dean, from the head of the school wrapped around the more important little slip of ‘yay or nay’ that they were waiting for. And still Noctis took the time to read them first, his features turning from good humour and anxiety to a scowl. Ignis caught only a handful of the first letter as he tried to read over Noctis’ shoulder, drawn away by the boil of water and the resonating click of the kettle. 

“They’ll try to draw in the prince, of course,” he offered it as a matter of fact, as an analysis of the situation on a whole. “There would be a prestige associated with your name on their attendance lists.”

“No need to worry about the rest then.” 

Water poured, Ignis manoeuvred around the kitchen island and back to the table. Noctis snatched his mug before Ignis could set it down, and cradled it between his hands as he glared at the tea slowly bleeding into the water. Ignis retrieved the letters from the table, ignoring the seal of acceptance that he was certain they would see. It had been easy to forget that Noctis wasn’t just a normal student. It was easy to assume the same risk of rejection could apply to him, despite his top marks and academic successes. Ignis had forgotten just how much clout a royal name could carry. Any school in Eos would have rushed to get his name on their books, if only to entice alumni to visit their campuses again. 

“Noct—”

“It’s fine. I should have guessed, right?” The first sip of the drink, not given nearly enough time to steep, had only deepened the look of disgust from Noctis. “Why would they want anything other than my name?”

There was a moment, as Ignis watched his own tea seep. The idea was a familiar one; Noctis had been warned time and time again against assuming that anyone would see past his name or station to begin with. It had been a common concern when he opted to enrol in a regular school, rather than take the tradition of a tutor in the Citadel. It had been drilled into both of them, to Gladiolus, too. 

“You’re more than your name, Noct.”

“Right.”

“I do mean that,” Ignis set his mug aside, the nearest envelope suitable as a makeshift coaster for now, and moved around the table to direct Noctis’ attention to him. Forcefully, if needed. But he knew he always had his prince’s attention. His friend’s attention. “You’re so much more than just your name.”

“Specs…”

They hadn’t had a quiet moment in ages. Not like they wanted to, not like Ignis thought they deserved now. He cupped Noctis’ face and offered a kiss. “You are.”

He could feel the heat of the blush beneath his touch, the smile, and the soft touch to his own hand. “Love you too, Iggy.”

“Now,” another kiss and Ignis released his hold; “why don’t you think up what you want for dinner, and I’ll draft your rejection letters for these schools?”

“Make them scathing?”

“Absolutely.”


End file.
